


The MMO fic

by what_a_dork_fish



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Abuse, Hartwin, I didn't mean for this to happen, I don't know what happened here, M/M, MMO, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-26 12:06:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6237946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_a_dork_fish/pseuds/what_a_dork_fish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So basically I wrote a bunch of AU prompts and one of them was that Harry and Eggsy met through an MMO and now I'm posting the first chapter here to galvanize myself to write more of it I am so sorry that this is such a bad summary I am so so sorry</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_“It’s just a game,”_ the calm voice reminded him.

“I _know_ it is!” Eggsy shouted into the mic, ignoring how Jamal winced and Ryan leaned away. “That doesn’t give you the right to fuck up the plan!”

_“Your plan was flawed. I fixed it.”_

“You almost got us all killed! Stop taking stupid risks, damn it!”

“Eggsy,” Ryan said nervously.

“What?!” Eggsy snarled, rounding on him. He needed a physical target, and while it was wrong to turn on his friends, it was hard to fight Dean’s influence when he was pissed.

“It really is just a game,” Ryan echoed. “Jamal can raise the dead, remember?”

“He woulda been killed too!” But shame did weave itself into the anger, and Eggsy stopped shouting. “We all agreed on the plan. Stop going behind our backs.”

 _“Yeah, Gally,”_ sneered Jacob, the American who played Healer. He wasn’t very good at it, but since he was rarely on, the team had learned to work without him. He was also an ass-kisser with a petty streak. _“Stop screwing us all up.”_

Instead of his usual cutting remark, their Thief character, who went by Galahad and refused to give his real name, simply said, _“I apologize, Gary.”_

“I told you to call me Eggsy,” Eggsy scolded, forgetting that he’d done so over the private chat.

“You did?” Jamal piped up.

Eggsy’s angry flush returned. “Yeah,” he answered defensively, “So what?”

 _“Eggsy?”_ the only female on their team (she too refused to give her name, which Eggsy completely understood) repeated thoughtfully. Her character was a Warrior, and a damn good one. _“That’s an… interesting name. Can I call you that too?”_

“I suppose,” Eggsy muttered. He was calmer now, but he resolved to have another private chat with Galahad later, when they disbanded for the night. Perhaps he would email him. Eggsy could find and hack emails now; he had an acquaintance who, ah, happened to have a certain skill set that was useful for such activities. They were in jail now for that. Eggsy did not intend to join them, though; not for something so simple as hacking.

The rest of the evening went well. They finished five quests and cleared two dungeons, and even beat another, larger group thanks to Eggsy and Galahad’s quick conference. Eggsy forgot to be angry as he was drawn into the game again. Everyone got very excited, except for Galahad. He was as calm and cool as always. It was good to have someone like that in their party.

When they all agreed to shut down for the night, they logged off one by one; and when it was just Eggsy and Galahad, the latter said abruptly, _“I would like to talk to you some more if that’s permissible.”_

It was phrased as a request, but the tone was very different. Eggsy sighed and replied, “Yeah, fine. Gimme an hour to get home and I’ll log back on.”

_“Thank you.”_

Jamal and Ryan gave him funny looks as he unhooked his headphones; he scowled at them both. “What? He just wants to yell back.”

“Uh huh.” Jamal looked like he wanted to say more, and Ryan gave Eggsy a sideways glance, but neither said anything. Eggsy scowled harder, but said goodnight and left, giving Jamal’s mum a hug on his way out. Autumn was well underway; Eggsy’s breath puffed in a dragon-breath cloud with every exhalation. He smiled reluctantly at the thought. Had they fought any dragons today? No, only drognets. Pesky creatures. They were the lowest-level killable monsters, and with the whole team leveled up so far, they were nothing more than flies.

Eggsy crept inside the flat without waking anyone, and slid noiselessly to his room. There, he turned on his computer, plugged in his headphones and mic, and got ready for another scolding.

~~~\0/~~~

Harry liked this infuriating little boy. It was against every instinct, and these children’s games were cutting into time better spent working on that case—but he could catch up, and the boy was an excellent tactician. Perhaps his strategies could be improved, but other than that, he was a good leader for the party.

He was also annoying. He lost his temper too much, and swore every other sentence, and attacked his own party members verbally for straying in any way that he did not approve of. He was a bratty child. And Harry had never had as much fun as he had playing stupid games with him.

So when Gareth_6969 logged back on and greeted Harry with a surly _“What did you want to say?”_ , Harry’s mouth twitched as if he were about to smile, instead of a frown.

“Just that you were out of line,” he answered smoothly. “I told you before, ruling by fear does not end well. Don’t you remember Effie?”

 _“Oh,”_ the boy replied, sounding sheepish. _“I forgot.”_

“I thought so.”

 _“But you went against the plan!”_ the boy shot back. Harry winced and turned down the volume on his laptop. _“We spent fucking_ hours _on it, and you just went off and nearly got yourself killed! What the fuck are we supposed to do without you, huh? You’re our best player, we—“_

Harry was too surprised to reply immediately, but he _wasn’t_ too surprised to notice the faint strain in Gary’s—Eggsy’s voice before he cut himself off. “It’s just a game,” Harry reminded him softly.

 _“I know that. Just—just—“_ The boy seemed unable to find the words. Harry sighed and offered, gently for him, “Perhaps I should give you my email. This is not as secure as I would like.”

 _“Okay,”_ the other acquiesced.

Harry blinked, but gave his email, and when his conversational partner disconnected, so did he, thinking. Why did he do that? Was it the strange emotion in the boy’s voice, confused and… something else? Was it truly the fact that speaking aloud was more dangerous here than written word? Or did he just want to get a little closer?

Yes. It was definitely to get a bit closer. He was intrigued by this Eggsy, and something about him… his name, his voice… it seemed oddly familiar. Where had he heard the name “Eggsy” before? It was going to irritate him for the rest of the night if he didn’t get an answer.

He checked his email. There was already a new message. The sender was GarethEgg; perhaps a personal account? It was a short read.

_You have to be more careful. There aint any thieves as good as you. And you know how we all work. Dont fuckin sacrifice yourself just cuz you changed your mind. Were the Dragons Eggs nd we stick together dammit. Im goin to bed. Hear you tomorrow._

Harry felt oddly touched by the aggression of the message. It was true, he knew the team back to front, inside and out; but that was because, safe in the anonymity of the internet, they exposed more of themselves than they intended to. And this angry, short little email was Eggsy trying to say that, considering the mechanics of the game and how rude it was that dead members weren’t allowed to rejoin the party if the necromancer didn’t call them within 24 hours, he did not want to lose as valuable an asset as Harry.

Well, Harry didn’t want to leave, either. So he would be more careful, and he would talk to his party before acting recklessly. Which spoiled the point of recklessness, but it did not matter.

He shut down his email with the tiniest glow in the pit of his stomach.

~~~\0/~~~

Eggsy quite enjoyed talking to Galahad. Even though they couldn’t talk during the day (Galahad had work, and Eggsy was busy avoiding Dean and his Dogs), and the evenings were spent playing, it was nice to end the evening exchanging cordial insults and arguments, even if it was over email instead of speaking. Eggsy even offered to Skype, because he was curious what Galahad looked like; but the rejection had been so polite that he was sure he had actually offended or angered him.

One evening, Eggsy was playing from his own computer instead of borrowing Jamal’s, and the enemy did something to vex him—afterwards he couldn’t remember what it was. But he actually stood up and was almost shouting into the mic, when Dean slammed open his door.

Eggsy immediately sat down and shut up.

“What the fuck are you doin’?” Dean snarled. “I’m tryin’na sleep!”

“Just—playing my game,” Eggsy answered, forgetting that he was wearing his headphones and mic still. Vaguely he was aware of sharp voices demanding to know what was wrong, but his focus was on Dean. His stepfather looked at the computer screen and his lip curled. Eggsy knew that look. His pulse sped up; his stomach felt tight with fear. Please don’t—please don’t—

Dean strode forward, shoved the monitor so hard it smashed when it hit the floor, and punched Eggsy just hard enough to send his headphones flying.

“You shut up and stop playing,” Dean snarled, as Eggsy picked himself up off the floor, “Or I’ll turn your face inside out. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” Eggsy mumbled, rubbing his bruised cheek.

“Good.” And Dean stomped out again, slamming the door behind him.

Carefully, Eggsy picked up his mic and headphones, and whispered, “Sorry, everyone. I—I can’t play any more tonight. Jamal, can you log me out?”

 _“Yeah,”_ Jamal replied, sounding worried. _“He didn’t hurt you too bad, did he?”_

“Just a punch. Not—bad.”

The silence was painful. Finally, he murmured, “G’night, everybody,” and took off the headset.

He crept into bed and lay awake, curled up facing the wall, as angry tears blurred his vision. If only he were bigger—if only he were stronger—if only—he would—he would—

He would what? Dean had his Dogs, and could bribe the police. And if Eggsy started the fight, it would be assault. He couldn’t do it in front of mum, either—he couldn’t put her through that. Not after everything else.

No, there was nothing he could do. Nothing.

So he stifled furious sobs in his pillow, and let bleak despair take him far, far away, until finally he slept.

~~~\0/~~~

Harry needed to kill something.

He’d traced Eggsy; Gary Unwin, son of Lee and Michelle Unwin. Lee, Harry’s favorite student. Lee, who was the kindest soul—and who was deader than dead. Who was it who’d hurt Eggsy? Who had put such fear in his voice?

A ‘he’. Someone the necromancer and the scout knew. Harry looked up Michelle Unwin and found that she was married to a Dean Baker, a known thug. He’d hurt Eggsy. For some reason, that thought made Harry’s hands shake and his chest fill with anger. He told himself it was because it was Lee’s family being terrorized by this—this—criminal. It had nothing to do with Eggsy himself. Nothing at all.

When it was nine o’clock and the usual email did not come, Harry began to worry.

At ten, he was very worried.

At eleven, he was flip-flopping between anxiety and rage. Eggsy had never been this late in his messaging. Harry knew that it was nothing, that he shouldn’t worry, that he couldn’t be hurt that badly; but logic means nothing to emotion.

Hence Harry’s grabbing his umbrella and catching a cab to the shop, and setting the speed of the shuttle to the fastest it would go, and marching straight to the gym. No one was there at that time; that was excellent. Harry chose a punching bag, imagined it had Mr. Baker’s face, and let himself go.

It took him two hours to cool down even a little. He’d strained a few muscles with the violence of his attacks, but that didn’t matter. He still wanted to kill something. He needed to see blood. But he couldn’t just go around killing bad people just because he wanted to.

This was a familiar fight. He had “anger issues”; he could control his rage, but only just. It had taken most of his childhood to learn control, and his teenage years had been relearning new techniques that worked better. He was constantly trying to learn more and better ways to keep himself sane and those around him safe. Most of his colleagues didn’t know. Not even Merlin.

Computer games helped, a little. They helped him practice keeping calm. And having to work together with others was good for a solitary agent.

None of this lessened his urge to go find Mr. Baker and pound him into a bloody pulp.

No, he couldn’t do that. Think of the repercussions. Think of how it would affect Michelle and Eggsy. Think of how he would never be able to talk to Eggsy again.

Harry sat on a bench, put his head in his hands, and decided not to lie to himself anymore.

~~~\0/~~~

Eggsy bought a new computer monitor, and Dean promptly smashed it, then beat Eggsy and confiscated the computer tower. Mum protested about the computer, but weakly; she did shriek, though, when she saw Eggsy’s broken nose and black eye, and threatened to call the cops. She didn’t actually do it. Eggsy tried not to be resentful.

Jamal’s mother offered to report it, but Eggsy refused to get her involved too. Instead he sat with his friends and watched in silence as they played the game. He wanted to reassure the others, but he didn’t have the energy.

Ryan and Eggsy slept over at Jamal’s that night. Eggsy borrowed the laptop and tried to talk to Galahad, but he hurt too much. So he just claimed he needed to go to bed early. Galahad said it was alright, he understood; and Eggsy felt like he really did, which was odd.

He couldn’t cry in front of his friends. Never mind that they were both asleep; he could not cry in front of them. But surely turning away and covering his face with his pillow and letting a few tears leak out was okay. Right?

“Eggsy?” Ryan mumbled sleepily from his cocoon of blankets, “You alright, bruv?”

“Fine,” Eggsy replied shortly, but his voice was thick and his nose was beginning to run.

“No you ain’t.” Jamal was awake too, and turned on the bedside lamp so that both of the others could see Eggsy, curled up and hiding. He tried to uncurl, but it hurt. So he kept his knees bent and his shoulders bowed and squirmed to lie on his back and scowl at his friends.

“I’m _fine_ ,” he told them firmly, even as another tear slid its silent way down his temple towards his ear.

“I got some joints,” Ryan offered uncomfortably. Eggsy didn’t blame him; if either of them started crying like babies, he wouldn’t know what to do either. But he didn’t think smoking would help, not right now.

“No.” He rolled back on to his side, facing away. “Thanks, but no.”

Rustling, the drawing up of covers; Eggsy closed his eyes tightly and waited until the breaths behind him were slow, even, and deep. Then he let himself hiccup a few times, before finally also falling asleep.

~~~\0/~~~

Three days after the Incident, Harry was relieved to hear Eggsy’s voice say, _“All here?”_

 _“Rose checking in,”_ Rose_and_Hemlock greeted him.

 _“Jake checking in,”_ JakeThaGreat echoed.

 _“J checkin’ in,”_ said onceXinXaXlifetime.

 _“R checkin’ in,”_ 12345D chorused.

“Here,” Harry chimed in last.

_“Good. Let’s kick some ass, guys.”_

Eggsy did not shout as he usually did. He was not loud at all. He didn’t even swear as much as usual. And after all those talking-tos about recklessness, he himself broke from the plan more often than Harry ever had. Harry began to frown as the evening wore on. What was wrong? That something was wrong was plain; R and J spoke carefully, and the chat was full of them asking Eggsy if he was okay still, and him replying constantly that he was fine, really.

No one else wanted to call Eggsy out, so finally, after another melee that almost cost the entire party, Harry sighed and said in an overly-patient tone, “Eggsy, what was that phrase you used in your first email? Something about your character being important?”

There was silence from everyone. Then R said, almost incredulously, _“You gave him your_ email _?”_

 _“Shut up!”_ Eggsy snapped. _“I didn’t say_ I _was important!”_

“No, but it applies to you. Must I say it aloud?”

 _“No,”_ the boy replied forcefully.

So Harry typed into the chat, verbatim, what Eggsy had sent to him. He fixed the punctuation, and left out the last two sentences, and changed ‘thief’ to ‘guardian’ (Eggsy’s character was a guardian paladin); but he kept the message. Eggsy was important, and they needed him.

_“Why did you do that.”_

“Because. Now, are we going to keep playing, or are you going to throw a tantrum and get yourself killed?”

Eggsy did not answer verbally. He made his character whack Harry’s with his sword, and then led the way back into the marshland where their next quest resided. Harry shook his head, but there was the faintest of smiles on his lips. Infuriating little boy.

~~~\0/~~~

Eggsy had reclaimed his computer, and Dean had bought him a cheap monitor to replace the ones he’d broken, in an effort to reassure Michelle that it had only been a one-off event, and Dean didn’t _really_ despise Eggsy so much. It was such a transparent lie even Dean’s dense Dogs saw through it, but they did not touch Eggsy. Yet.

The price for the return of his computer was that Eggsy was not allowed to disturb Dean’s rest, or play while he was drunk or watching TV or any number of scenarios. But as long as Eggsy was very quiet, he would be fine.

He was still pissed at Galahad, though. He did not stoop to the silent treatment; that was the wrong kind of punishment for this. Instead, he wrote him a scathing email about privacy, and received a very humble apology and an offer to do something, anything, to regain his confidence.

Eggsy sighed. He needed to stop giving in when he saw such pretty words on his screen. But they were nice to see, and cooled his temper a little. _Skype with me._ he typed.

No reply. For half an hour, there was no reply. Eggsy began to feel like he’d offended him again… but he deserved it. And he _did_ say anything. So Eggsy stubbornly remained logged in.

A notification flashed. Someone was there.

Eggsy stood, dragged off his sweaty, dirty t-shirt, yanked on a clean tank, and threw his hat on his bed, trying to comb some order into his hair with his fingers. He didn’t know why he wanted to make a good impression. He just did. He clicked the notification, waited impatiently for Skype to open, and blinked when it did.

 _“I am terribly sorry,”_ Galahad’s voice said, and he did sound a little sorry. _“I forgot that my camera is disconnected. Would you mind if it stayed that way?”_

“For this first call, sure.” Eggsy scowled at the blank black square where Galahad’s face should appear. “Next one I wanna see you.”

_“Alright. What did you want to say?”_

“Just that—“

Dean banged on the closed door, making Eggsy jump. “Who the _fuck_ ’re you talkin’ to?” Dean shouted, voice slurring.

Eggsy fought to keep his face under control. Just because he couldn’t see Galahad didn’t mean Galahad couldn’t see him. “A friend,” he called, “I promise we’ll be quiet.”

“You better be!” And Dean stomped away.

Eggsy took a long, shaky breath, and turned back to the computer. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “He’s… not in a good mood.”

 _“Is he ever?”_ Galahad asked quietly.

“No.”

_“What did he do?”_

“Nothing… permanent.” And that was all Eggsy would say about the issue. He took a deep breath, reminded himself that he was supposed to be angry, and hissed, “Why did you put that in the chat?! It was a private message!”

_“Because I could not think of a better way to rephrase it, and I suspect you play in fullscreen, which means you can’t just check your email when you feel like it. Did he give you that black eye?”_

“But—I don’t—“ Words failed him for a moment. So he went with the easiest, quickest ones. “I don’t need to hear that! I know I’m important, I’m party leader, aren’t I? But Rose can take over for me, or R. And J can resurrect my character.”

 _“Did he give you that black eye?”_ Galahad repeated gently.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t—“

_“He broke your nose.”_

“So?”

_“How long has this been going on?”_

“It’s none—“ Eggsy remembered to keep his voice down just in time. “It’s none of your business!”

_“Are you my friend?”_

Eggsy hesitated. He wanted to say yes, of course, how else could he put up with this annoying geezer—but he couldn’t. Youngsters like him did not become friends with old men like Galahad. But they _were_ friends. It was frightening how quickly it had come about, but they were.

“…Yeah,” he whispered.

_“Then I am yours. And I want to know how long he’s been hurting you.”_

“Why?”

_“Because I’m an interfering old man.”_

Eggsy’s mouth twitched. Then he managed, so low he could barely hear himself, “I didn’t tell mum the first time. I said I’d been in a fight. It was when he’d just moved in, and I said something, I can’t remember what. He just smacked me and told me to shut up. So I did. He ain’t the first. But he’s the first who’s stuck around for longer than a few months. He was so good to mum for the first year. I thought, it didn’t matter if he hit me sometimes, as long as he was good to her.”

_“And then he wasn’t.”_

“It’s only small things. Some of the things he says… it hurts her so bad, and she doesn’t show it. She found out it was him hitting me a few months ago, and made him promise to stop. He hasn’t. I just got better at hiding it.”

_“But he hasn’t touched your mother.”_

“He knows that if he does, I’ll kill him. Fuck the consequences.” Eggsy’s fists tightened in his lap, and his face twisted, but his voice remained barely a whisper. “I don’t care if his Dogs kill me back. I’ll haunt the fuck out of all of them.”

_“And if you’re put in jail?”_

“At least I’ll have done something to justify it.”

_“Is there anything I can do?”_

“No.” Eggsy rubbed his face with both his hands. “No, it’s okay. I’ll deal with it on my own. Thanks, though,” he mumbled, suddenly embarrassed. That was an odd tone for Galahad to take. Almost protective. But then, he was old enough to have children, maybe even grandchildren; it was possible he was one of the good guys. Possible. Not likely… but possible. “But you shouldn’t give out private messages like that.”

 _“You shouldn’t take me to task for something and then turn around and do it yourself,”_ Galahad retorted, sounding amused. _“Hypocritical behavior is repellent.”_

“Then why are you my friend?” Eggsy challenged.

There was a space of silence. _“Because you amuse me,”_ Galahad replied quietly. _“You are interesting. I… appreciate it greatly.”_

Eggsy felt distinctly uncomfortable. “Just in a friend way,” he added, a bit forcefully.

 _“Oh, absolutely,”_ Galahad agreed, sounding startled. _“I have been avoiding contact with the wider world. You and the team have… helped me, I suppose.”_

“Will you connect your camera now?” Eggsy asked, embarrassed all over again and wanting to change the subject.

 _“I’m hardly presentable,”_ Galahad pointed out.

“I don’t care.”

A sigh, and the sound of shuffling, of key tapping; and the little blank box flickered crystal clear. Eggsy blinked. He had not expected Galahad to be… well, good-looking. His age showed, but it made him look wise, in a hard, cold way. And what did he mean, ‘not presentable’? He was so crisp and well-dressed he reminded Eggsy quite forcefully of his own stained state.

Eggsy snorted. “Not presentable? Damn, you look ready for tea with the queen!”

Galahad smiled very slightly. _“Thank you,”_ he said. _“I fear you are wrong, though. I have had tea with the queen, and such casual dress is frowned upon.”_

“What, ‘cause you’re not wearing a tie?”

_“No, because—“_

A knock on Eggsy’s door. “Babe? Who’re you talking to?” Mum called softly.

“A friend,” Eggsy replied, leaning back in his chair. “We’re Skyping.”

Mum opened the door a little, to peek curiously at the screen. Seeing that it was a gentleman, not a skimpily-dressed lady-friend, she smiled a little and informed Eggsy, “It’s almost bedtime. We’re off to the hospital in the morning, remember?”

Eggsy brightened immediately. “Yeah! I’ll be in bed soon, I just wanted to say hi.” The hospital! For the ultrasound! To see his baby sibling! He was so excited!

Mum chuckled, warned him not to stay up too late, and closed the door again. Eggsy whipped around and beamed at the camera. “I gotta sleep soon,” he told Galahad, “I’m goin’ with mum in the morning.”

 _“I take it she is not ill,”_ Galahad commented.

“No.” But Eggsy couldn’t bear to tell him the good news; it was too good. It would have to wait. “I’ll tell you in…” He counted in his head quickly, and grinned again. “I’ll tell you in five months.”

Galahad’s tiny smile widened almost infinitesimally. _“That is a long time for such good news,”_ he murmured.

“Don’t guess!”

_“I won’t. Can you sleep?”_

Eggsy thought about it for a moment, then shook his head.

_“I’ll tell you about my visit with the queen. That will bore you to sleep.”_

It wasn’t boring at all, actually. The only reason Eggsy found his head drooping was because Galahad’s voice was very soothing, and he made sure to be as dry as possible. In fact, Galahad had visited when Princess Diana was still alive, and he had quite a bit to say about her, all of it good. That part got boring. But eventually Eggsy found himself nodding, and smiled a little absently when Galahad (gently) ordered him to bed.

“Don’t play the “you hang up first” game,” Eggsy warned him.

_“I won’t. Good night, Eggsy.”_

“Good night.”

He was sure—he was pretty sure—that they disconnected at the same time. Then Eggsy turned off his computer, and, yawning, got ready for sleep.

~~~\0/~~~

Harry was very angry at himself, because of one small thing:

He was beginning to fancy the poor boy.

It was not the way he smiled, and it was not the glow in his cheeks when he was happy, and it was not how gentle and sweet he looked half asleep; it was definitely not his furious protective air when it came to his mother. And it most certainly was not his contrariness, which so closely mirrored Harry’s own. No, there was absolutely no reason to fall for Gary Unwin. Not even his grey-blue-green eyes, or the strong bones under the bruises and discolorations.

But it had happened, and Harry could not force himself to stop thinking about that lovely face and gravelly-before-its-time voice. And he was painfully aware of the fact that Eggsy was nearly thirty years younger than Harry. There was no way in Heaven or Hell that Eggsy could ever reciprocate.

For the first time in years, Harry actually felt gloomy.

~~~\0/~~~

“You gave him your email?! And you Skyped with him?!”

Eggsy scowled at Ryan. “Yeah, so?”

“So we all said we wouldn’t do that!” Ryan reminded him, scowling right back. “Who knows what kind of creep he is?”

“He didn’t look like a creep,” Eggsy protested, “And he didn’t talk or act like one. You forget I know what creeps are like?”

Ryan backed down, sullen but ashamed. Of course he knew that Eggsy knew. Jamal, who had stayed out of it, knew too. That had been no secret between the three of them; it had been too important. But Eggsy had learned to identify creeps, and Galahad wasn’t one.

“What did you guys talk about?” Jamal asked, when the silence got uncomfortable.

“Nothing much. I… told him a little too much. But he won’t tell.” Of that, Eggsy was very certain. Friends don’t tell. And Galahad _was_ his friend.

At that moment, Dean walked in with a few of his Dogs. Eggsy froze for a moment, then, trying hard to be casual, picked up his glass and took a very careful gulp of his beer. It was foul as usual. Or maybe that was just the taste of his own mouth. Thankfully, Dean ignored him; and, following their boss’s lead, the others ignored him, too. Jamal and Ryan kept their eyes down as the thugs passed, and settled in their usual booths.

“…So you gonna talk to him again?” Ryan demanded, but quietly.

“Not tonight,” Eggsy answered, his voice just as low. “Can’t risk it. But maybe tomorrow.” He caught the wistful tone in his own voice, and coughed a little to hide it. He shouldn’t be wistful. Wistful made no sense. Maybe Galahad would talk him to sleep again tomorrow. That would be nice.

Oh god. Oh, fucking hell. Eggsy liked him already. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. No, hide it, hide it—don’t let on. It was just a crush. It would go away.

He hoped it would go away.

But for now, he would ignore it, and focus on doings in the real world. Such as revealing to forcedly interested friends that the baby was healthy and developing well and a girl. So he was going to have a sister! A lil baby sister! He kept his ideas of how he was going to spoil her rotten to himself, though.

No. You know what? He _was_ gonna call Galahad tonight and tell him. He couldn’t wait so many months. And surely Galahad would appreciate the news better than these two.

They went to Ryan’s place to play, because his parents were out and there was booze. Eggsy was in a mixed state at that point, but that evening they just went on a level-up spree, which was fun because there was no strategy needed. They just surrounded monsters and defeated them however they wanted, as long as no one stole anyone else’s kills. There were jokes and laughter, and Rose told the weirdest, funniest riddles, and Galahad told ridiculous stories about the people he’d met as a tailor on Savile Row, and Eggsy wanted so, so badly to tell them the big news. But no, he must save it.

When everyone started logging off, Eggsy waited until it was just him and Galahad, and said quickly, “Wanna Skype tonight?”

 _“Of course,”_ was the pleased answer.

Jamal and Ryan gave Eggsy exasperated looks, but he just scowled at them and said goodnight instead of get drunk with them like they’d all three planned to do. He didn’t know why he was willing to ditch them like this, but he was. It made him feel incredibly guilty, as well it should. What did he have to say that couldn’t be said in front of Ryan and Jamal? Nothing, really. He just really wanted to spend some time talking only with Galahad.

That damn crush! Fine, he’d humor himself for a few days; if it didn’t clear up by then, he’d have to get stern with himself. But right now—

He really wanted to tell Galahad in privacy.

He was in luck. Dean was out, and mum was napping. He snuck to his room, quietly shut the door, turned on his computer, and waited impatiently for it to boot up. As soon as it had finished and the little icon flashed, he clicked it.

Galahad looked as crisp as he had the night before, only this time his collar looked a bit stiffer and he was wearing a very nice tie. Eggsy wondered vaguely what he smelled like, but dismissed the thought quickly and grinned. “Did you guess?” he asked immediately.

 _“You told me not to,”_ Galahad reminded him. Gosh he had a nice voice.

“Yeah, but did you anyway?”

_“No.”_

“Good. In four months mum will have made it to nine.”

_“Is she pregnant?”_

“Yeah, and it’s a girl!” Eggsy couldn’t help getting excited all over again. “I’m gonna have a baby sister! Mum’s gonna have that daughter she’s been threatening to have for years!”

Galahad smiled too, and Eggsy felt a flush of warmth. Uh-oh. No, it didn’t matter. _“I’m assuming you are very excited,”_ Galahad commented. _“Shall you call her princess and give her everything she desires?”_

“Well, of course,” Eggsy snorted, pretending disdain. “A good big brother does everything for the sibs that come after him.”

Galahad chuckled, but his eyes were sad. Eggsy didn’t like that. So he changed the subject. “What do you think we coulda done better today?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is v short and I apologize for that.

It was far more reassuring to Jamal and Ryan when Eggsy asked for, and Galahad agreed to, their presence during a call. So after a successful sortie where their tiny team decimated an entire company of Soldier Warriors and won back a crucial defense point (they had all agreed to join the ‘war’ that was part of the game’s story mode), when everyone logged off at the usual time, Eggsy typed in Galahad’s information on Jamal’s laptop (it had the best camera) and waited eagerly for Galahad to answer.

When he did, Ryan jumped, and Jamal frowned. Eggsy grinned. He was always doing that when he saw Galahad’s face. It had been two weeks since he’d first started to like him, and now he was completely infatuated. No one needed to know, though.

 _“Hello,”_ Galahad said calmly. _“You must be J and R.”_

“Yeah,” Ryan said shortly. Eggsy elbowed him, a reminder to be polite.

“So how’s work?” Eggsy asked quickly. “Has that fuckface Kip been by?”

Galahad’s eyebrows drew together sternly, but his mouth twitched sideways. _“He is not a fuckface. He is simply a fathead. And no, he has not. I’ve had to deal with Chester instead.”_

Eggsy winced. “My condolences.”

_“Thank you. He was better than usual. There was less nitpicking, at least.”_

“Who’s Chester?” Ryan piped up, reminding Eggsy that there were other people in the room.

 _“The owner of the shop,”_ Galahad explained. _“He’s… difficult.”_

Eggsy, recalling some of the stories Galahad had told him, thought ‘difficult’ was an extremely mild way of putting it.

The conversation was trivial, tame, without substance; Eggsy didn’t like it. But Galahad was trying to prove that he was nothing to worry about, and the best way to do that was to be agreeable and mild. Ryan got bored and started texting his girlfriend; Jamal seemed to know this was not the norm, and began to look just the tiniest bit sly. After about an hour, Galahad made a bullshit excuse and disconnected. Eggsy caught himself before he could sigh regretfully, and instead said, “Are you happy now?”

Ryan grunted. Jamal began to smile, even more slyly. “Yeah,” he said. And then he changed the subject. “So how often do you talk to him?”

“About every day,” Eggsy’s traitor mouth revealed, and he almost blushed as Ryan looked up sharply and Jamal fought a grin. “Stop fuckin’ looking at me like that! We’re _friends_!”

Then Ryan’s face went blank, before shock and horror filled it, and Jamal actually laughed.

“You like him! You _like_ him!”

“I do not! He’s—he’s my friend, we’re just—stop laughing!” The shame and humiliation vanished in a tide of anger, and Eggsy welcomed it gratefully. Jamal stopped laughing. Ryan leaned away from Eggsy. He took a breath and got the anger under control. “I don’t like him like that. He’s a great bloke. That’s all.”

Jamal and Ryan nodded obediently, but he could see that they didn’t believe him. Fine. He’d just have to convince them in other ways. Maybe he should get a girlfriend.

No, that wouldn’t work. Eggsy knew himself. He couldn’t pretend to love someone when he was already infatuated with someone else. Ah, he’d think of something; for now, it was time to go home.

~~~\0/~~~

Harry was writing reports for Arthur when Eggsy sent him an email. It was a very politely worded request for another call. Harry frowned; was something wrong? Had he said something that was misconstrued? He hoped not; he’d tried his hardest not to be at all personal. Eggsy deserved to have his privacy respected, as he’d been told many times.

No, it wasn’t that. Eggsy took one look at Harry and went very red in the face. Harry frowned harder. “Eggsy? Is something wrong?” he asked, keeping the concern in his voice at a reasonable level.

 _“No,”_ Eggsy replied shortly. _“Everything’s fine.”_

After a moment of silence, Harry prodded, “What did you want to talk about?”

_“I don’t know.”_

Harry found this very strange, but also very nice. That meant he could spend a few minutes just looking at Eggsy and wishing absently for the courage to just say right out that he found Eggsy interesting and attractive in every way.

Then he realized Eggsy was staring back, looking troubled, yet oddly comforted. What a strange combination. But Harry felt a flit of warmth in his chest, that he could comfort with just a look. It was an entirely new concept that he enjoyed just as much as that longing stare…

Wait—longing?

Harry cleared his throat. Eggsy jumped and looked away. There was a bruise under his ear. The warmth in Harry’s chest vanished.

“He hurt you again,” Harry stated flatly.

Eggsy stared, then smiled weakly. _“No. Got mugged. Lucky I’m broke and forgot my wallet, eh?”_

“Yes, I suppose,” Harry murmured. He was still fairly sure his anger was visible; but he couldn’t really hide it completely. “Are you—“

He wanted to say “sure you’re alright”, but before he could do so his glasses beeped. He closed his eyes for a moment. A call. Oh no. Please, not now…

 _“You alright?”_ Eggsy inquired anxiously. Harry wondered at that for a half-moment, then answered calmly.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just… a notification from work. I am very sorry to cut this short—I much prefer talking to you—but…”

 _“Duty calls,”_ Eggsy suggested softly. There was a bit of a blush to his cheeks that made him even cuter, but he looked a little sad.

“Perhaps, I can call you tomorrow, on the phone,” Harry offered on impulse, and was rewarded with a smile that made his insides shiver.

_“Yeah! I’ll give you my number—I’m up at ten, usually, so call me ‘round noon.”_

They exchanged numbers, said goodnight, and logged out. Harry let out a long, low breath; he would _not_ take this as a sign. He would _not_ let himself hope. He was tempted, though, so tempted. The blushes, the smiles, the very visible emotions, the long stare—he must not assume anything. But surely…?

Another beep. Harry sighed and pushed such notions aside to answer Merlin.

~~~\0/~~~

Eggsy fretted so much that he couldn’t sleep until midnight, and even then, he woke at eight. He went for a walk, and when that didn’t help he went to visit Ryan at his job at a local restaurant. The breakfast crowd was still thick, and the manager was quick to catch Ryan loitering. So Eggsy returned home and played alone for a while, jotting down ideas as to how to approach the latest quest. Galahad had told him his tactics were brilliant, but his strategy was shit; so Eggsy was working on both.

At noon, Eggsy’s cell buzzed. He snatched it up, and, since Dean was napping after a night of various illegal activities, crept outside to lean against the wall out of the wind and answered the call.

“Hello?”

 _“Hello, Eggsy,”_ Galahad greeted him, and a warm shudder went through him to have the other’s voice so much nearer. _“I apologise for last night, but it was fairly urgent. All taken care of now, though.”_

“Good. Um.” Eggsy looked down and scuffed his toe on the concrete. “Were you okay with Ryan and Jamal?”

_“Yes, of course. They seem like nice boys. Why? Did they have a complaint?”_

“N-not quite.” But Eggsy couldn’t bring himself to say it. What if Galahad guessed? “I’ve been working on strategy. You wanna hear some of what I thought of?”

_“Absolutely.”_

It was a wonderful hour of discussing plans and complaining about the game. Galahad was annoyed that his character wasn’t allowed to use the same knife as Eggsy, since it was so much better; Eggsy reminded him that the reward for the next quest would be a knife even better than his own. Then Eggsy complained about the good armor going only to clerics and healers, until Galahad pointed out that healers were perhaps the most important characters in any game. Protect the healer, and you’ll rarely die.

They were still arguing about healers versus necromancers when mum came home, walking slowly and holding her tummy. She looked queasy. She smiled a little to see and hear her son so animated.

“Don’t mind me,” she chuckled when Eggsy noticed her and immediately cut himself off. “I just left work early today. Isn’t it cold out here?”

“Didn’t want to wake Dean,” Eggsy explained, then frowned. “Mum, you sure you’re alright?”

“Just a little nauseous, that’s all. It was like this with you too.” She glanced curiously at Eggsy’s phone, still held against his ear; he flushed, but refused to explain. She nodded. “I’m going in to be sick. Don’t catch a cold.”

“I won’t.”

~~~\0/~~~

“You play that game too much.”

“I know,” Harry murmured, not looking away from the computer screen. He could trust Merlin not to tell. And anyway, it was just a quick quest with Eggsy. Just one, in the middle of the afternoon, when it was absolutely sure that no one else would be on.

He kept having this odd hope that Eggsy perhaps returned his affections. It was partly the way he looked at Harry when they Skyped, and partly the way he talked, and how he laughed whenever Harry said anything vaguely amusing—it was never a forced laugh or faked, it was always genuine amusement and happiness—and how he never swore at Harry. That felt good.

And when it was just them playing together, they played in silence, without even having to use the chat to discuss next moves. They knew how to work together now.

They finished off the last few goblins, and Harry sighed regretfully, before typing in, _I have to go now. My boss is getting suspicious. Same time tonight?_

 _Yeah sure_ was the brief, unsatisfying reply. Eggsy’s character saluted with its sword, and then he disconnected.

Harry logged out and turned to Merlin, clasping his hands in his lap and looking innocent.

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “A good friend?” he asked dryly.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Harry replied calmly. “What have you got for me this time?”

“A lecture. You’re spending too much time on that game. Your reports are suffering. What exactly do you even do on there?”

“Well, mostly it’s quests to kill monsters or retrieve objects, but there’s also a story mode where you join one of six armies and work your way up through the ranks until you become head of your ruler’s guard. Then you assassinate the ruler and take the throne for yourself. It usually takes about a month; it took our band about a week. Now we’re back in “chaos” mode, which is, of course, the most popular.”

Merlin stared at Harry for a moment. Then he said, “It took you a week.”

Harry shrugged. “Eggsy is a very good strategist.”

“Eggsy. That would be the boy you call so often.”

Harry had learned many decades ago not to blush. “Yes.”

“Arthur is furious, by the way.”

“Arthur can su—“

Harry’s cellphone rang.

He answered it immediately, without thinking. It had to be Eggsy. No one else had his number who was still alive. “Isn’t your stepfather home?”

_“No. I just wanna say, before he gets back, we need a new healer on the team. Jacob wants to quit.”_

Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Jacob is more trouble than he’s worth. The recruitment center is hurting for healers, though. I checked yesterday.”

 _“We can still look again. Maybe we can get a newbie who doesn’t mind grinding levels.”_ Eggsy did not sound very enthusiastic. _“We’re about to max out, did you know?”_

“We’ve been playing a year. It stands to reason. Ah, a moment. Yes?” he asked Merlin, seeing the stern questions on his face.

“Stop taking this so lightly,” the other snapped. “You have a mission to Sweden tomorrow. Here is the information. Read it and prepare, and don’t get distracted by silly games.”

Harry accepted the folder thrust rudely in his face with a disapproving frown, but Merlin was right. He needed to back off a little. And he needed to stop talking to Eggsy so much.

But the grand thing about being the best agent was that Harry could do exactly what he liked, as long as it didn’t compromise the mission. Perhaps he wouldn’t be able to use a computer for the duration of the mission, but he would still have his phone.

“I will be ready,” he promised humbly.

Merlin gave him a sharp look, but said nothing more.

~~~\0/~~~

Eggsy’s first emotion when Galahad said during that evening’s play that he would be leaving for business for several days was crushing disappointment. The second was anger at himself, and then fear as he realized that Jamal and Ryan were staring at him.

“Fine,” Eggsy said curtly, “But first you have to help find a healer.”

 _“I’m afraid it can’t wait,”_ Galahad replied calmly. _“My employer was adamant. And I would rather not lose the employee-of-the-month bonus.”_

“So you’ll be gone how long?” Jamal asked, one eye on Eggsy.

_“Perhaps five days, perhaps a week or more. It truly depends on the client.”_

Eggsy allowed Rose, Jamal, and Ryan to talk it out with Galahad. He was busy introspecting. He didn’t do it very often, and when he did it took most of his attention.

Perhaps this was a good thing. Perhaps this week apart would help him let go a little. He was tipping from infatuation to obsession, he could feel it; and he didn’t like it. He needed to get over this stage. He knew this cycle, knew himself; this feeling of fixation, of passionate preoccupation, would pass eventually. It was uncomfortable and, yes, a little scary, but beyond it would be the relief of hopeless romanticism. He would settle into bittersweet misery and be comfortable there.

Yes. This was a good thing.

“So it’s settled,” Jamal was saying as Eggsy came back to himself. “Get a temp, suffer through for a while, and then you’ll be home and we’ll have found a healer. Eggsy, still with us?”

“Yeah,” he answered, a little shortly. “Just thinking. You better be back soon or we’ll just replace you.”

 _“Now, there’s no need to be cruel,”_ Galahad protested, but with amusement rather than any kind of hurt. _“It will just be a week or so.”_

“Good.”

And they continued playing.

Of course, when they logged out, Jamal asked sympathetically, “You gonna be alright, bruv?”

Eggsy forced a scowl. “I’ll be fine,” he snapped. “It’s just a week.”


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn’t “just a week”, though.

Not one email, not a single call, not even a message on the answering machine. Eggsy waited and waited, and played the game, and didn’t talk to Ryan or Jamal about it. Mum noticed something was off, but she didn’t ask. She was too busy carrying a baby in her tummy. Dean was trying hard to cut back on drinking and smoking, and was, for the most part, managing well. If Eggsy had been paying attention, he’d have felt a kind of cool, aloof triumph, that finally Dean was getting control over himself.

But he wasn’t paying attention. He was looking for a job, any job, and playing his game, and counting days til Galahad came home. The obsession had faded, making way for a vague, steady ache, like a missing tooth. He missed Galahad’s cool head. He missed his dry sarcasm and cutting jokes, his ability to read the team, his silly stories and absurd anecdotes.

Most of all, he missed everything about their Skype calls.

Eventually he landed a job. It was nights stocking at the nearest Tesco, which was fine by him. It cut into game-time, but he’d been spending too much time playing anyway. When Galahad came back, it’d be harder, but for now—

‘ _If_ he comes back,’ whispered an evil little voice in the back of Eggsy’s head. ‘ _If_ he comes back and wants to play children’s games with silly little kids. He’ll come to his senses, just watch. He’ll want nothing to do with any of it.’

‘Oh shut up,’ Eggsy told the voice irritably, replacing boxes of rice and pasta.

After two weeks, Eggsy texted Galahad. He received no response. He resisted the urge to continue sending texts every few hours; instead, he took the matter to his mother.

He chose a time when Dean was away, and mum wasn’t feeling too ill. Then he sat on the floor, leaning on mum’s knee as she sat on the couch, reading her favorite magazine. Mum stroked his hair, like she had when he was a kid and came crying to her for things like scraped elbows and bad friends.

“What’s the matter, babe?” she asked gently.

“That friend I’ve been calling,” he started with, feeling that honesty was the best way to go, “He said he’d be gone a week, but it’s been more than that, and he hasn’t called or emailed or texted me at all.”

“Mm. And you’re worried?” Mum fluffed his hair with her fingers, then patted it flat.

“He’s never missed a day.” He could tell she was smiling, and scowled upside down at her. “He’s just really good at forming habits.”

“I know, babe. I heard you every day. Well, either something important has come up that’s kept him away, or he just hasn’t had the time. I doubt it’s anything you did.”

“I keep feelin’ like he’ll come to his senses and not give a fuck anymore,” Eggsy confessed, but quietly.

“He won’t, love. He’ll call you again soon. Trust mummy’s intuition.” Mum tapped Eggsy’s skull with her knuckles gently. “Soon.”

~~~\0/~~~

Harry was cleaning his knife when his glasses, recently replaced on his nose after four days in his pocket, beeped. He frowned and brushed them with his wrist; his hands were too bloody.

A text message scrolled across the inside of his glasses lenses. From Eggsy. Something about when he was coming home. Harry didn’t catch the exact words because he stood immediately, knees crackling, and started cleaning up his mess.

He hadn’t even thought to contact Eggsy; the mission had been too important, taken all of his resources and attention. That was how it was supposed to be. But he still felt guilty. So, when he had burned the bodies to ashes, set fire to the room, and quietly escaped the mansion with the blood still on his clothes, he made straight for the little camp he’d set up in a cave on a cliff overlooking the estate; and before he did anything else, he used the secure frequency Merlin had set up to send a single line of text.

_I will be home in three days._

~~~\0/~~~

Eggsy had set a special ringtone for Galahad’s calls and texts; he wanted to always know before he checked, so he wouldn’t automatically smile in the presence of anyone who might think the wrong thing. The text came while he was at the pub with Jamal and Ryan, and they saw him light up the moment that particular notification sound went off.

“Galahad?” Jamal inquired tiredly.

Eggsy shot him a glare, but he was already texting back.

_Will u be ready by then? u got a lot of catching up to do._

_I will be ready, never you fear. I need to board a plane now. I will text you when I am home._

Eggsy realized he was grinning. Quickly, he smoothed the expression away. Just because he was excited was no reason to forget himself. Someone might—

“What are you smirkin’ about?”

Before he could even raise his head, a hand reached over and snatched his phone. He was on his feet in seconds, ready to do battle—but he was alone in this, and there were five of Dean’s Dogs arrayed in a half-circle around him. Rottweiler was the one who had stolen Eggsy’s phone, and was scrolling through his messages with great distaste.

“Who the hell’s Galahad?” he demanded.

“None of your fuckin’ business,” Eggsy snapped, making a grab for the phone; Rottweiler automatically raised it just out of Eggsy’s reach, grinning cruelly.

“No, but it might be Dean’s,” he taunted.

“It’s none of his business either!”

“Uh,” Ryan squeaked.

All eyes snapped to him, except Eggsy’s. He was still focused on his phone. Ryan swallowed hard, and said, “Uh, sir? Galahad’s our mate off the internet. He plays Elves’ Ruins with us.”

“What the fuck is Elves’ Ruins?” Rottweiler demanded. His hand had dropped a centimeter. Come on, just a little lower…

“I-it’s an online game,” Ryan answered. He looked properly terrified now, a good idea around the Dogs. “We play every night.”

Rottweiler let his hand drop, and moved to put Eggsy’s phone in his own pocket; Eggsy’s hand darted out and he yanked the little piece of technology away, pressing it to his stomach as he took two steps back, and promptly ran into Poodle. It was a very tight little circle.

“Seems like more than a friend,” Poodle growled.

“He is a friend!” Eggsy snapped, stepping away, to the exact middle of the circle. “Why the fuck do any of you even care?!”

The Dogs all glanced at each other, but said nothing. Finally Rottweiler pointed at Eggsy and said sternly, “You just keep in mind, anything you say, we’ll find out. C’mon, boys.” The gang shuffled away and took their usual seats at the booths on the wall. Eggsy glared, but there was nothing he could do. So he sat again, trying not to tremble with rage.

“I don’t like the look on your face, bruv,” Jamal commented warily, quietly.

Eggsy couldn’t, and didn’t try to, smooth his expression. “Got half a mind to meet up with him and tell him everything,” he growled, just as quietly. “He’s got friends.”

Jamal and Ryan looked equally startled, and equally uneasy. Eggsy forced a small smile. “Yeah. You’re right, it is a fuckin’ stupid idea. Let’s get the fuck outta here. It’s almost time to meet up online.”

~~~\0/~~~

The first thing Harry did when he returned home was change into more comfortable clothes. The second was settle in at the computer for a long night of character-creation.

When he logged in, he was greeted by Eggsy suddenly shouting, _“FINALLY! How fuckin’ long does it take to fly from Sweden?!”_

“I do apologize,” Harry replied, taking great pleasure in the vague affectionate edge to the anger. “My plane was delayed, and I had other chores to attend to. Shall we get on with it?”

Eggsy had texted him just that morning that the whole team was considering creating new characters, so their new Healer didn’t have to grind levels so much. Eggsy was Scout; their previous Scout was now the Thief. The Warrior had taken Eggsy’s place as Guardian. The Necromancer asked for and was granted the place of Warrior. Which left Harry the spot of Necromancer. He thought this rather fitting, and had agreed.

So now they were all creating their new characters, and while the others took their time, Harry just hit ‘random’ until he was satisfied. There was no point trying to make it look more like him. The less it did so, the better.

He noticed that he’d begun to tweak the settings a little, make the hair shorter, change its color, change facial features, adjust heights… no, no, this would not do at all. He clicked ‘random’ again. He would _not_ allow himself to attempt to recreate Eggsy.

The two weeks away had not helped at all. Oh, he had spent less time thinking of him, because focus is vital to every mission; but his dreams, which were usually full of blood and bullets, had held mostly benign conversations, with Eggsy’s sweet smile and excited whispering, saying ordinary things—and then slipping into the most amazing descriptions and promises, all with that innocent excitement. Things Eggsy would never say in real life. Harry had known that, still knew it. There was no point remembering the dreams and the emotions they incited.

He got the invitation to join Eggsy’s party, and accepted. When they had all grouped in the hovel that was their HQ, Harry was introduced to the new healer, a shy-sounding first-timer who asked many questions. The whole group answered them kindly, because they all remembered their first time, and Effie. Effie, the previous leader, who had tried her best, but had not been the greatest at explaining things. Rose was much better at it.

_“I’m J, this is R.”_

_“Call me Rose.”_

_“An’ I’m Gary.”_

“My name is Galahad.”

 _“Galahad—like the knight?”_ the healer asked, and Harry placed them—her—as a young woman, a girl mayhap, still in her teens. It was her voice and accent that gave it away.

“Yes,” he confirmed.

_“My name’s—Aly.”_

_“Nice name,”_ R ventured.

 _“Thank you,”_ Aly replied.

 _“You ready?”_ Eggsy asked cheerfully.

A chorus of yeses answered him, each with their own level of enthusiasm. Harry sighed quietly, contentedly, and settled in for a good session of gaming.

It was interesting. He’d never played a necromancer before, and the spells, while unfamiliar, were easy to figure out. From Eggsy’s swearing, and J and R’s arguing, they were all struggling a little; Rose laughed at them all, and reassured Aly that no, no one was angry, they were all just figuring themselves out.

Aly was timid, though her character was fierce, and knew how to wield what little power she had so far. She was a much better team player than Jake had ever been. Harry found himself grinding his teeth impatiently whenever she spoke, in a tone like she expected to be yelled at, but he answered her gently if the others were busy fighting. Healers and necromancers tended to be oil and water, but Harry was good at making others feel welcome; and Aly grew a little more confident with each swing of her staff. Soon she was giggling at the verbal antics of her new teammates, though she never joined in.

Harry soon forgot to be careful around her, because every time Eggsy spoke he felt a little of his awareness detach and focus on the younger man. He was never sharp or short, but he did become a little absent-minded. Whenever Eggsy spoke directly to Harry, he felt himself perk up; a pathetic response, like a dog responding to its favorite human. But it was hard not to let his tone border on affection when they argued fiercely over how to strategize now that the team was lower level.

 _“Are they always like this?”_ Aly asked while Harry and Eggsy battled verbally.

 _“You have no idea,”_ J answered her wearily.

 _“I heard that!”_ Eggsy snapped.

_“You were meant to.”_

Harry smiled. He’d missed these children.

At the end of the session, Eggsy asked the usual; _“Can we talk?”_

“Of course,” Harry answered. “In five minutes.”

_“Alright.”_

As soon as Harry logged off, he stood and hurried upstairs. He wanted to dress nicely for Eggsy, and a shirt with stains (he glanced down and spotted three tiny rusty dots where perhaps a little blood had fallen) was not at all acceptable. He refused the urge to put on a suit. He was supposed to be relaxing after a long business trip. So he chose an undershirt of white, with a button-down shirt of the lightest grey possible with the top two buttons undone, and brushed his hair neatly; he even shaved, which he’d been avoiding for around three days.

He did not ask himself why he was doing these things. It did not matter.

When he was spruced up and his breathing was calmed and he was relaxed with the thought that nothing would have changed, it had been five minutes exactly. He opened Skype.

Eggsy seemed to have brushed his hair, too, which was odd. He, too, was wearing an unstained shirt—a polo, which was different from his usual dull t-shirt. He also grinned the moment he saw Harry—and winced, as the expression pulled on bruised muscles and split skin.

Harry’s hands clenched into fists while his face remained blank.

 _“How was work?”_ Eggsy asked, with a vague attempt at cheerfulness.

“Fine,” Harry answered calmly. “Reasonably boring. Who did that?”

Eggsy’s lopsided smile faded, and he looked down. _“Can’t say,”_ he said softly. _“Didn’t see ‘em.”_

Harry could smell a rat, but he couldn’t do anything about it. No—wait. Yes, he could. “Do you want me to direct certain interested parties to a person of your acquaintance?”

The struggle of emotions flitting over Eggsy’s face was easy to read: uncertainty, determination, anger, the kind of fear that leaves a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach and the taste of bile in your mouth. Hope.

 _“No,”_ he whispered.

“Will you be angry if I do it anyway?”

_“Yes.”_

Harry’s fists clenched tighter, but he could think of nothing else to say. So instead he asked, “Would you like to hear about my trip?”

_“Yes, please.”_

So Harry told him, and tried not to show his rage on Eggsy’s behalf.

~~~\0/~~~

That Galahad was angry was plain. That it was not at Eggsy, was also clear. This was reassuring. Eggsy was still alarmed.

He hadn’t seriously considered that Galahad actually knew people in the police force who would be able to help him. That he would be acquainted with them was possible, but to be on such good terms that he could direct their attention towards a single part of the human tragedy that played out all across London… it made Eggsy wary. One moment of weakness, and he could set off a chain reaction that would end very, very badly—and the first link, the first target, would be Galahad.

No. He could never ask him to endanger himself like that.

So they talked about Galahad’s adventures in Sweden, and Eggsy’s adventures helping mum. She had finally taken maternity leave, and was using Eggsy as her personal servant. Not that he minded; it made him feel good to help around the house and see the tension in her ease as he completed each task that she could not. He had taken over all chores and cleaned the whole flat, including his own room, which had taken less time than he’d expected.

He did not talk about how the Dogs had caught him and dragged him to an alley for a beating, just to remind him that his happiness was not allowed. Happiness fed confidence, and confidence bred defiance. He must not be allowed to get too secure. Dean actually hadn’t known about it; when Eggsy had hobbled through the door, biting his split lip hard to keep in tears of pain, Dean had gone straight out and… done something, Eggsy didn’t know what. But the Dogs had kept very scarce since then.

Mum thought Dean was taking revenge. Eggsy knew it was because Dean didn’t like it when his Dogs thought for themselves. But he spoke of none of this to Galahad.

He almost forgot the pain in his jaw, he so enjoyed their conversation.

Two weeks was a lot to catch up on, but eventually Eggsy was too tired to go on. He caught himself yawning, and apologised, blushing painfully. Blushing, because he didn’t want Galahad to think he was bored of him; painfully, because the rush of blood made his bruises ache abominably.

 _“No, it’s alright,”_ Galahad replied, seemingly amused, and much mollified. He was in a much better mood than he had been at the start of the call. _“I understand. Get some sleep. It sounds like you have a busy day ahead of you.”_

Eggsy smiled with the uninjured side of his mouth. “Talk me to sleep again.”

Galahad sighed, but he too was smiling, ever so faintly. _“What would you like me to talk about?”_

“Anything.”

“Hmm. I shall tell you about my friend ‘Lin.”

They were funny stories, but ‘Lin was a techie, and for all his skill at it, Eggsy was not particularly interested in that kind of thing. In his experience, it only got you in trouble. But he fell asleep halfway through a chuckle that might have been a giggle, head pillowed on his arms. He didn’t even turn off his computer.

~~~\0/~~~

Harry only stopped talking when he was well and truly sure that Eggsy was asleep. Then he got up and poured himself a drink. Then he sat again, windowed Skype, and pulled up his reports in a different window. He would keep an eye on Eggsy. Just until morning.

It had been about an hour when Harry heard a vague noise through the speakers. He kept typing, but his awareness was focused quite intensely on the other screen. A shadow; a gentle hand on Eggsy’s shoulder; the bulk of someone slight with a single bump on their frame.

 _“Eggsy, babe,”_ Eggsy’s mum murmured, affectionately exasperated. _“Not again.”_ Then she looked up, started, and stared.

Harry nodded hello. His throat felt tight. Seventeen years had not been kind to Michelle, but they had been kinder than they could’ve been. She looked tired, but not life-tired. Just years-tired. And he couldn’t make himself speak to her.

 _“I know you,”_ she murmured, beginning to frown.

Harry nodded again, slowly. “I thought you would,” he answered quietly.

_“You’re the one who…”_

_“Hunh?”_ Eggsy mumbled, making both Michelle and Harry jump. He raised his head, noticed what was going on, and flushed again, looking very chagrined. _“Oh. Um…”_

“Go to bed, Eggsy,” Harry ordered gently. “We will talk more tomorrow.”

Ever agreeable when half asleep, Eggsy nodded and reached for his mouse, then peered blurrily up at his mother, who still hovered, frowning at Harry. _“You alright, mum?”_ Eggsy asked.

 _“I’m fine, love.”_ She smoothed his hair and stepped back. _“Say goodnight or I’ll tuck you in myself.”_

Eggsy groaned, waved to Harry, and logged off.

Harry did as well, and sat for several minutes, thinking.


	4. Chapter 4

Eggsy leaned back on his tree and blew a puff of vapor out into the cold evening air. Galahad was late.

It had been impromptu, a gut-reaction, just a few days ago. He still didn’t know how he’d managed to convince the other. Galahad had expressed another delicately-phrased desire to help Eggsy, and Eggsy had blurted, “You can come see for yourself, it’s not that bad anymore. It’s been a week, Gala.” ‘Gala’ was the nickname Eggsy had settled on, even though Jake had used it ironically, because it was short, distinct, and it made Galahad smile.

He hadn’t smiled when Eggsy said that. He’d looked thoughtful. Then he had answered, _“Are you inviting me to a real-life meeting?”_

“Y-yes.”

_“Alone, I assume?”_

“Yes, of course.”

Eggsy wasn’t alone, though. Some of Dean’s Dogs loitered a little ways away, smoking and muttering darkly to each other. Eggsy still wasn’t sure why Dean was so obsessed with Galahad. Then again, he wasn’t sure why he himself was so obsessed. A meeting like this, at this time of night… though it wasn’t any later than their calls.

A figure was walking towards him. They were male, dressed very well, walking with a kind of calm arrogance that Eggsy hated at once. But the arrogance kind of just… melted away, as the man came nearer. And then Eggsy recognized his face, and shoved off his tree to take four steps forward—before he remembered the Dogs, and pulled up short. Galahad did not hesitate, slow down, speed up, or acknowledge the knot of men who were suddenly paying sharp attention. He simply walked over, stopped at a comfortable distance, and said, “Hello, Eggsy.”

“Hey,” Eggsy replied, repressing a shiver. Galahad’s voice was even better in real life, as was his face. Eggsy grinned, hoping he didn’t look too nervous. “You look sharp.”

“I came straight from the shop,” Galahad explained. “My clients like their tailors well-dressed.”

“As if you don’t dress like that all the time.”

“I don’t. And I hope you don’t dress like that, either.”

Eggsy chose to ignore the implication that Galahad had dressed up special just for him. It would just give Eggsy hope. “No, usually I look a little better.”

Galahad seemed amused. He shifted his umbrella from one hand to the other. Nervous? Eggsy certainly was. “Shall we walk and talk?” Galahad inquired calmly.

Eggsy shook his head regretfully. “I got me an escort,” he muttered sourly, with the tiniest jerk of his head to the group behind him. Galahad’s eyes flicked to them and back. “Can’t go anywhere without being followed.”

“A pity.” Galahad cast around, then strode to and sat down on the nearest bench. Eggsy followed gratefully. Galahad crossed his legs; Eggsy stretched out, linking his hands behind his head. He kept the Dogs in sight at all times.

“You ready for tonight’s raid?” Eggsy asked, for lack of anything else to say.

“I should hope so,” Galahad replied. “I shall be glad to have a fresh start.”

They discussed how to approach their new characters, and how to compensate for the habits of the ridiculously high-leveled. Eggsy didn’t shout, like he did when playing the game, though he certainly became quite animated. Discussions on tactics always excited him, though it was usually boring to anyone but those who gamed. The Dogs drifted closer and closer, but Eggsy didn’t care, too absorbed in conversation. It was wonderful, not having to whisper, and the cold kept him awake and clear-headed better than fear. Galahad seemed more animated than he did when they simply Skyped; meaning sometimes he would make a hand-gesture or bow his head, and let his emotions show a little more than usual. Eggsy quite enjoyed it.

It was very dark when Rottweiler drifted over and said bluntly, “It’s time to go home.”

Eggsy glared, but there was nothing he could do. So he stood, helped Galahad up (he didn’t need help, Eggsy just wanted to touch him), and said his goodbyes, dully and sullenly. Galahad gazed at Rottweiler thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded to Eggsy and walked away.

Eggsy did not watch him leave, though it hurt to turn away. Instead, the clump of Dogs escorted Eggsy home. The silence was tense and bristled with enmity. Eggsy was glad to reach the block of flats—he was not so glad when the Dogs followed him up the stairs. But he dared not say anything.

Dean opened the door before Eggsy could even reach for the handle. Neither of them spoke, just eyed each other with hostility. Then Dean stood aside, and Eggsy slid past, glancing to his mother, curled as well as she could on the couch. She looked miserable. And he could do nothing for her.

He went to bed, the guilt and familiar misery chewing on his heart.

~~~\0/~~~

A successful first meeting, Harry felt. Touching Eggsy’s hand had sent a little shockwave through him, made him feel younger; mostly because that first touch had awakened urges that had been dormant for much too long. But he had great control over himself, and so he was able to focus on things other than Eggsy’s shoulders-to-hips ratio, and his lovely legs and ass.

Things such as the faded bruises, the nose barely healed enough to be unsplinted, the faint scars of split lips and eyebrows healing quickly. Eggsy had practically lit up when he’d recognized Harry, which had made every injury seem… not insignificant, but of no matter at that moment. Well, now they did matter, and they mattered very much. Harry clenched his hands in his lap as the taxi trundled down the road. If only he’d remembered himself enough to beat those thugs into pulp…

But what would have happened to Eggsy? What would he have done, if Harry had gone through with the protective instincts? No—no, it was good that he had stayed silent and had not hurt anyone. It really was.

It was hard to convince himself of that.

Once home, he sat at his computer and stared dully at the dark screen. He had worn his glasses, to record this meeting—had Eggsy noticed how Harry had been unable to look away for a single moment?—but he had turned off the communication functions. Now he turned on his computer and glasses, and braced himself. He was not disappointed.

_“HARRY! Ye great gump, what have ye been doin’?”_ Merlin snarled as soon as the transmitters were on. _“Talkin’ to the lad is one thing, but meetin’ him? Whit were ye thinkin?!”_

“I was thinking I could spend an hour or so without you yakking in my ear,” Harry replied smoothly, tapping in his passwords and pulling up the video editing software that he had never told anyone he had. Sometimes a man needed to remove certain moments from a recording. “Nothing came of it. Now, do you have anything of substance to say to me, or may I get on with what work I still have?”

Merlin grumbled something Scottish and unflattering. Harry chose to ignore it, already beginning the task of editing the footage.

_“No, I have nothing for you,”_ Merlin muttered. _“Nothing except that Arthur thinks you’re getting sloppy. He wants you to come in and take some tests, prove you still have what it takes.”_

Harry paused in his work. “He distrusts me that much?” he asked softly.

_“Yes,”_ Merlin answered.

Harry returned to his task. “Tell him I’m available tomorrow.”

~~~\0/~~~

“Hey, Rose, what’s wrong tonight?”

_“Nothing,”_ Rose answered quickly. _“I’m sorry. I just have a lot on my mind.”_

“Well, tell us what it is, so we can get on with the game,” Eggsy demanded, exasperated.

_“No,”_ Rose said firmly.

_“Rose, please?”_ Aly asked, with that particular shy earnestness that could break any of their walls.

Rose sighed, short and irritated. _“Well… I met someone,”_ she told them all, tone awkward. _“At judo. She’s… amazing. She kicked our instructor ten yards. And she’s such a brilliant dancer.”_ Rose sighed again, enviously this time. _“We went to a party, at a club—n-not alone. Some of the other students came too. But she made everyone stare, she was so good.”_

Eggsy, Ryan, and Jamal all glanced at each other. Slowly, they began to grin. Maybe boys weren’t supposed to be matchmakers, but all three of them could tell exactly which way the wind blew. “What’s her name?” Ryan asked innocently.

_“Gazelle,”_ Rose answered promptly. There was a softer edge to her tone than usual. _“Sophia Gazelle. And she’s_ beautiful _.”_

_“Gazelle? Not the famous dancer?”_ Aly exclaimed. _“I went to see one of her performances a few years ago, with my sisters. She’s so graceful, I cried.”_

_“She is,”_ Rose sighed, and the boys stifled delighted laughter. Rose, in love! It was too good to be true! Not that they would ever tease her about it; it was just going to be so fun hearing about it. Rose had never been one to keep her feelings to herself, at least, not when they were very strong. She continued wistfully, _“She said I had promise. That I was very good. Which was odd, since I couldn’t really concentrate with—um. Let’s get on with the quest.”_

“Sure,” Eggsy said cheerfully, though he tried not to sound _too_ cheerful. “Gala? You still with us?”

_“Yes, yes,”_ Galahad answered, sounding winded. _“My apologies. I, ah, had to dissuade a guest. He wanted to talk to you. What did I miss?”_

“Rose has a new friend from judo,” Jamal answered, tactfully offhanded. “That’s all.”

_“Mm.”_ Galahad said nothing more.

Their current quest was to clear a section of woods of drognets. With the whole group at a lower level, the drognets went from nuisances to real threats. Galahad and Aly were very busy keeping the team alive, while Eggsy snapped out orders that were (mostly) heeded on time. This was what the game really was for them all; a time to sink into roles they weren’t used to, to get away from their shit lives, to accomplish something. After an hour, they were working as smoothly as they ever had, heading into town as a group to claim their rewards and buy better armor and weapons, splitting gold evenly, selling what was unneeded, etcetera. Two hours later, though, Aly had to call a halt.

_“My big sister needs the computer, her laptop is fried,”_ she explained regretfully. _“You can keep playing without me.”_

“No, we most certainly can _not_ ,” Eggsy replied forcefully. “I have work in a few minutes anyway.”

_“Well—gimme a second, you won’t die from waiting!”_ Aly actually sounded annoyed, presumably talking to her impatient sister. _“Gosh, you’d think_ you _were the younger sib! Sorry, guys. Goodnight. Stop pushing!”_

Aly logged off. Everyone was silent for a moment.

“I’ve got to go, too,” Ryan said abruptly.

“Liar,” Jamal muttered. Eggsy elbowed him lightly.

_“I have to practice some more,”_ Rose added. _“Goodnight, boys. Good game, as always.”_ She disconnected as well.

Ryan and Jamal logged out almost simultaneously. Eggsy waited for Galahad to say something—but no. No, instead, he logged out and disappeared.

Eggsy stared at the screen blankly. But… Galahad always had something to say. Surely he would at least ask if Eggsy actually had work tonight. He did, of course—he wouldn’t say it if he didn’t mean it—but surely…

“Don’t you have work?” Jamal prodded.

“Yeah.” Eggsy logged off and put down his headset. “G’night, guys.”

~~~\0/~~~

Michelle was worried.

She’d placed the well-dressed man from Eggsy’s online chatting. Gal-whatever. The one who had brought her the medal, and the News. For years, she’d nursed a deep hatred for him; but when Eggsy started wearing his father’s medal proudly, the hatred had grown tired and curled up and hid. There was no point hating a man she would never meet again; and she preferred to remember Lee as her husband, not another on the list of casualties.

But now Gal-whatever was back, taking her little boy just like he’d taken Lee. No, not ‘just like’; she had seen the look that passed between Gal-whatever and Eggsy, heard the tone Gal had used. Her mother’s intuition was worrying her. And then they had gone ahead and met up… news of that adventure had made her nervous for three whole days.

One night (the night of Rose’s confession, in fact, though Michelle didn’t know), Eggsy had work, but when Michelle passed the door to his room, she heard a faint beeping. Frowning, she nudged open the door. His computer was still on. The beeping was a notification.

She shouldn’t’ve done it. She should have walked away. As if in a dream, she stepped into Eggsy’s room, walked over to the computer, sat carefully in the creaky chair, and clicked the notification.

A window opened. It was Gal-whatever, who blinked and lost whatever expression had been about to form on his face. _“Ah,”_ he said.

“I thought it’d be you,” Michelle said calmly.

Gal-whatever—the little thing said Galahad—seemed unable to think of an answer. So instead he said, _“Is Eggsy there?”_

“He’s at work.”

_“Ah,”_ Galahad repeated. He looked a little sad. _“I thought he said he would be. May I leave a message?”_

“You may. I won’t guarantee I’ll give it to him.”

_“Fair enough. Please tell him that I will be out of town for a few days, and I will not have access to my phone or the internet. Also that I do not retract my promise to him. That is all.”_

Michelle nodded. She said nothing.

_“…Goodbye, Mrs. Baker.”_

“Goodbye, Galahad.”

He blinked, but also nodded, and his picture went blank. Michelle closed the window and leaned back in the chair, absently rubbing her extended abdomen. Hm. What promise would that be? Maybe…

A sharp pain in her stomach. A spasm. And another. She doubled over with a gasp, arms wrapped around her baby—no, no, it wasn’t time—two more months—just wait, please, love, wait—it isn’t time yet—

Another spasm, a hard kick, and then her daughter settled. Michelle stayed bent, breathing hard, hair straggling in her face, until she was sure. Then she stood carefully and waddled out to the sofa again, holding her abdomen and her baby.

Two more months.

~~~\0/~~~

When Eggsy walked into the flat at the end of his shift at five in the morning, mum was cooking breakfast for him.

“Mum—no, I’ll do it,” he insisted, reaching for the spatula. “You’re supposed to be restin’, remember?”

“I’m bored,” she replied, pushing his arm away gently. “Go call your boyfriend and ask him about his business trip.”

Eggsy froze, his face going dead white. Mum saw, and smiled slightly. “Sorry, babe. I meant go call that nice man who’s been taking up all your attention, before he leaves.”

“He’s leavin’?”

“That’s what he told me.”

Eggsy hurried to his room, not hearing his mother chuckle behind him.

Galahad wouldn’t answer the video-call. So Eggsy just called him on his cellphone, though he would have preferred to see his face. All he got was the voicemail.

So. Galahad was gone. And he hadn’t told Eggsy directly. That hurt, quite a bit actually. Wait—how did he tell mum?

Eggsy went to his doorway and asked, “Mum? How did you know he was going away?”

“Last night your computer was on, and I was going to turn it off but the little thing was going off. Come have some eggs and toast.”

“What did he say, exactly?” Eggsy inquired, drifting over to accept a plate of food.

“That he will be out of town, without access to phone or internet, and that he won’t break his promise.” Mum looked at Eggsy sharply. “What promise was he taking about?” she asked carefully.

Eggsy sat down on the arm of the sofa and began eating, to give himself a moment. Mum finished the bacon and tomatoes. She was patient, but that didn’t mean she’d let him try to maneuver out of this.

Eggsy swallowed his eggs and told his plate, “He promised to call the police if I asked.”

A sharp clatter. “Babe!”

“I didn’t!” he protested, looking up to his horrified mum. “I keep telling him no, but he keeps offering. It’s only when—“ It’s only when Dean hits him. But mum won’t accept it’s Dean who still leaves bruises. “—I get caught by one of the gangs. He’s good about it. He never does it.”

Mum still looked worried. “We can’t have police here,” she reminded Eggsy, smoothing her hands nervously on the apron over her tummy. “We just can’t.”

Eggsy had never understood mum’s urgent refusal to allow any law enforcement agent to know anything about them, but he had never gotten a straight answer when he asked, either. Sometimes he thought mum didn’t know either. That didn’t matter. Eggsy stood and went over to hug her, careful of the baby. She hugged back, a little fiercely. When was the last time Eggsy had hugged his own mother? He couldn’t remember. That made him hold her tighter.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s okay,” she whispered.

And, with the impeccable timing of the truly unwanted, Dean opened the door.

He scowled to see his wife and her son being affectionate, but did not comment on it. Instead he pointed one blunt finger at Eggsy and said harshly, “You skip by us one more time, you’ll regret it.”

Eggsy, who honestly had not meant to avoid his nightly escort (for it was true that Dean’s rivals were, sluggishly, starting to realize they could get at Dean indirectly through his stepson), just nodded stiffly. Then he pulled away from mum and said, “I think I need a nap.”

“Alright, babe.”

Dean just scowled.

Eggsy went to his room, closed the door firmly, and dragged his nightstand in front of the portal. Then he tore off his clothes except for his boxers and, unable (or unwilling?) to resist the urge, laid on his bed, held his phone above him, and took a photo of his bare torso. Then he texted Galahad asking if he had a moment.

Amazingly, Galahad answered, with one word: _Always._

So Eggsy sent him the photo, with the message, _Stop worryin. Im fine now, see?_

After a painfully long time, Galahad replied. _My dear boy, was that a flirtation?_

Eggsy’s face burned. Yes. Yes it was. Mum’s comment about Galahad being his boyfriend—no, Eggsy was just tired. He was getting silly because he was tired. _Kind of._

Another long moment. Slowly, Eggsy got up and put on an old, comfy t-shirt. How had Galahad guessed so quickly? Did it matter? He was probably typing some kind of rejection or rebuttal, something offended and quelling.

Eggsy’s phone buzzed. He picked it up, and frowned. Multimedia message? He opened it, cringingly curious.

It was a downwards angle of someone, a man (the face was cut off), lounging in an office chair with one heel braced on the seat, with his shirt open all the way and his trouser button undone. The text was simply, _Two can play at that._

Eggsy immediately took off his shirt, stood in front of his mirror, and spent a good five minutes trying to decide what angle and pose would be best. Eventually he had it, and sent the picture.

It went back and forth like that until Eggsy had six pictures of Galahad in various stages of undress (why did he never show his face?) and was thoroughly exhausted trying to keep up. Looking through the pictures, the last of which was Galahad in nothing but his pants, Eggsy couldn’t help starting to pant, feeling dizzy. He’d never felt attraction to another man—then again, no man had sent him such photographs, with the express purpose of stimulating attraction. And suddenly he wanted to take off his boxers and send a—but no, that was too far. Much too far.

_Are you tapped out?_ Galahad asked.

_Yes._ he answered. _Unless you want a dick pic._

_Not now. Perhaps later, when we are less likely to be compromised._

What an ominous phrase. But still, Galahad had pretty much said yes. Maybe tomorrow, then. That was both interesting and terrifying.

Eggsy wanted to ask if he’d be his boyfriend, but that, like a dick pic, was too far.

Instead, he asked, _When you leavin on that trip?_

_Tonight, 18:00. I assume your mother gave you my message._

_Thats why i texted you._ Way to kill the mood, bruv.

_That’s why you sent me seven pictures of yourself mostly naked?_

Eggsy blushed, then realized he was still standing bare-skinned in the middle of his room. Hastily, while he tried to think of a reply, he pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants—and caught himself yawning. It had been a long night. He settled cross-legged on his bed with his phone and started to type many times, but deleted everything. Eventually he settled for something neutral.

_No, i sent those so you could stop worrying. And it was only six. How long are you gonna be gone?_

_So it was. I suspect I will be gone for several days, if not another couple of weeks. I will text you when I can._

Eggsy felt his face fall. Another couple weeks without him? Well… it wouldn’t be terrible. He’d survived the last time, hadn’t he? Yes. Yes, it would be fine. Never mind that he’d just sent six extremely, ah, personal photos; never mind that he’d received a half dozen in return. Everything was going to be fine, no matter how much contact they had.

_You better. Otherwise you aint getting ur pics._

_You drive a hard bargain. Tomorrow, then, Eggsy._

~~~\0/~~~

“You did _WHAT_?!”

“Hey, give that back!” Eggsy yelped, lunging to rescue his phone from Ryan. He hadn’t meant for them to find his pictures of himself; he’d just wanted to show them the latest ultrasounds! “Stop creepin’ through my phone, it’s none of your business!”

Jamal began to laugh as Ryan practically threw the cell at Eggsy, looking terrified. “You actually sent him pictures?!” Ryan gasped, finally grasping the depth of the situation. “What are you, sixteen?”

“Shut up, I c’n do what I want!” Eggsy shot back, crimson with shame and anger. At least they hadn’t found the ones Galahad had sent back. That would have destroyed their friendship. As it was, he could tell they were uncomfortable, and it hurt. Just because he’d fallen for a rich man didn’t mean he’d suddenly start being a creep. And they wouldn’t have known if they hadn’t snooped.

Eggsy poured himself some gin and drank it straight down. They were supposed to be testing a bunch of cocktail recipes all three had been saving, but so far they’d just made a mess. And now they didn’t want him there, because he was… He poured another glass.

“Sorry, Eggsy,” Ryan mumbled.

“Don’t drink all the gin, we still need to make martinis,” Jamal protested as Eggsy went to pour a third glass.

“Huh? Oh.” Eggsy put down the gin and picked up the vermouth. “Well, let’s do that, then.”

After a few drinks, Ryan and Jamal were more relaxed, laughing and joking and teasing Eggsy, who could not relax. What if he passed out and they decided to look through his messages? Not that they would actually do that, but what if they did? What if they started talking about him behind his back, or worse?

Eggsy could not enjoy the drinks. They all tasted bitter and foul to him. He felt bitter and foul himself. Which was more important, flirtations with Galahad, whom he’d only known for a year and a half, or a friendship that had lasted since primary school? Surely the friendship. Surely…

He stood up, wobbled to the sink, and began to be violently sick.

“I told you the orange juice was off!” Ryan crowed.

“It’s not that off!” Jamal protested, squinting blurrily at the date on the carton. “Maybe it was the prune juice?”

Eggsy couldn’t tell them it was nerves. In this state, they’d just laugh at him. And then, later, they’d wonder.

“Too much gin,” he mumbled, loud enough for them to hear. He wasn’t used to such large quantities of it. Let them think he’d developed a sensitive stomach. It was better than the truth.

~~~\0/~~~

Harry was very angry at himself.

He’d had the plane delayed just so he could tease Eggsy and be teased, and it took him almost twenty minutes to calm down and redress. Only when he’d moved the photos from his phone to his computer and erased all trace of them did he saunter out to catch his taxi.

And now he was sitting through another lecture as a hologram of Chester, seated in the wingback chair as Harry sprawled on the sofa, aired his grievances concerning Harry’s lack of punctuality. Harry ignored him. He was lecturing himself internally.

Finally, the projection of Chester snapped, “Are you listening, Galahad?”

“Yes,” Harry answered, coming out of his funk. “I’ve heard it all before, Arthur. And you never accept my apologies.”

“Because you never mean them. You’re not still being distracted by that ridiculous children’s game, are you?”

“It’s not a children’s game,” Harry replied primly, “It is a strategy-based battle simulation involving teamwork and requiring a grasp of tactics, economics, and how to deal with a multitude of people from all kinds of backgrounds and cultures.”

Chester’s hologram blinked. Obviously he had not thought of it from that point of view. And he didn’t want to, because he scowled and said firmly, “It doesn’t matter. It’s distracting you, and that is unacceptable. As is talking to that— _boy_.”

“What boy?” Harry asked blankly.

“The one you discussed with Merlin!”

“He isn’t a boy,” Harry’ traitor mouth objected. He was thinking of those photos. No mere boy could bend in quite that way. Eggsy was a man, and experienced at that. “Ah, I mean—he is not as much of a distraction as Merlin seems to think. I—“

The autopilot light switched. They were about to touch down. Harry shut off the projector and hurried to take his place in the pilot’s seat. He would argue with Arthur later, when he had his reasoning straight.

~~~\0/~~~

Eggsy broke the news himself, which made Ryan and Jamal look at him funny. He scowled at them both.

_“Does he often take breaks like this?”_ Aly inquired anxiously. Without Galahad to raise the dead and cast life-saps and bleeds, she would have to work extra on her heals and blesses, and less on fighting.

_“No,”_ Rose assured her, _“He’s probably been promoted or something. Hey, Eggsy, did he tell you where he was going?”_

“Not this time,” Eggsy answered, trying not to pout. “Probably somewhere on the continent, though.”

_“’This time’?”_

“He said he doesn’t know if his boss will send him out like this again in the next few months or not.” Eggsy killed a drognet and received a tiny _level up!_ notification. “At this rate he’ll barely reach level twenty.”

Neither Ryan nor Jamal said anything about the look on his face. Instead Ryan asked, awkwardly, “So, Aly, are you gonna have to leave soon again?”

_“Crapola!”_ Aly muttered as she received a _low mana!_ note. _“What? Oh, no, I don’t think so. My eldest sister fixed the laptop.”_

_“How many sisters do you_ have _?”_ Rose exclaimed.

_“Three. There’s six of us.”_

_“So you’ve only got two brothers?”_

_“One. Pat’s agender, but Eric is very much a dude. Why, how many brothers and sisters do you have?”_

_“Three brothers.”_

_“I’m sorry.”_

_“It’s okay, I’ve made my peace with it.”_

“And I’ve got one sister at university,” Ryan offered. “We all know Eggsy’s gonna be a big brother soon.”

“A month and three weeks,” Eggsy agreed cheerfully, his mood elevated quite swiftly. “The doctor said—“

His phone rang, with the ringtone he’d set for mum. He took off his headset and answered the call. “What’s up, mum?”

_“This is Dean,”_ a hard voice answered, tone clipped. _“Your mother’s on her way to hospital, she wants you to come soon as possible.”_

Eggsy was on his feet immediately. “On my way.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It short.  
> I seriously couldn't think of a way to end it properly so it's five pages instead of eight I am so so sorry.

“I thought they’d at least let me hold her.”

Eggsy had helped mum clean off her tear- and sweat-streaked makeup after she’d delivered her baby, and she looked so exhausted and miserable he almost wished they could put it back on. Mostly he wished he could wipe away the sadness like they’d wiped away the mascara. He sat on the edge of her hospital bed, holding her hand, and hid his rage at the staff.

“That’s what they’re supposed to do,” mum sniffed. “They didn’t need to put her in an incubator or anything, did they?”

“Yeah, they did,” Eggsy answered, chafing her cold hand gently. There was a pounding in his temples and throat that matched his heartbeat. “She was early, mum, they gotta be careful.”

“You were early, too, they never took _you_ away.”

Eggsy couldn’t help smiling a little, bitterly. “And look how that turned out,” he muttered. Louder, so she could hear, “It’ll be fine, you’ll see. Just a few days, make sure she’s safe. You can come see her when you’ve rested.”

“I’m tired of resting,” mum muttered, annoyed, which was better than sad. “I’ve been resting for _weeks_.”

“Only one or two.”

Mum snorted. “ _You_ spend two weeks on the couch, see how _you_ like it.” Then she sighed, the annoyance fading, and said, “Babe, you don’t have to stay.”

“I ain’t leaving you here alone.”

“Dean—“

“Is smoking a full pack of cigarettes and probably grabbing a drink,” Eggsy interrupted, anger flashing before he took a deep breath and throttled it down again. “Sorry, mum. I shouldn’t’ve said that.”

She just looked at him, mouth tight, eyes worried. She shouldn’t be worrying about him, or Dean. She shouldn’t have to worry. Eggsy shouldn’t do and say things that made her worry. He knew that, he just… wasn’t very good at it. Which meant he had to try harder.

“I think,” mum mumbled, “I would like to sleep now.”

Eggsy squeezed her hand lightly. “Go ahead and sleep, mum. Everything’ll be alright when you wake up, promise.”

Mum smiled a little at that. “Who’s the mother here?” she chided gently; but then she closed her eyes, took a few breaths, and fell asleep.

Eggsy stayed where he was, holding her hand, and trying not to show how fucking furious he was on her behalf.

~~~\0/~~~

Harry tried not to be selfish, he really did; but instead of worry for the health of Eggsy’s mother and the baby, he was more anxious that they get home safely so that Eggsy would be available for speech when Harry returned. He told himself that “get home safely” meant “were healthy”. He didn’t believe it.

So he finished typing a sympathetic text, and, after hiding his cellphone again, he went back to his network reconfiguring.

~~~\0/~~~

A week after the birth of his dear baby sister, Eggsy had learned what most people learn when faced with a newborn for longer than an hour: babies are hell.

Well, not actual hell. When Daisy was quiet, she was the perfect little angel; when she was asleep, it was like a blanket of calm had draped over the flat. When Eggsy was out and about, he beamed at the mere thought of her.

When she was hungry, or needed a new nappy, or just wanted someone to hold her—that was when Eggsy wished she hadn’t been born with the lungs of an adult.

Surprisingly, Dean was very good with her. He did his share of baby-chores, and spent more time caring for her and mum than he ever had, and he didn’t hit Eggsy at all. Mostly because they were both too tired to be confrontational. A few times they’d snapped at each other, but every time Dean raised his voice and Eggsy braced for a slap or punch, Dean would pause, look between him and Daisy, and drop the subject.

For his part, Eggsy spent most of his time just being with his mum and his sister. He would lie on the floor while they napped on the sofa, just in case they needed anything. He played his game at home instead of at Jamal’s, so he could leave the room at a moment’s notice; and he didn’t play as often or for very long. Even Aly leveled up faster than him.

Eggsy and Dean were very careful to do all the housework, cooking and cleaning and the like, because mum was lapsing again. She’d had pneumonia only last year, which had landed her in the hospital, and with the stress of carrying, birthing, and caring for a new little Baker… Eggsy was terrified it would be too much. He didn’t know how Dean felt about it. But Eggsy was very insistent she rest more than usual, and it made him nervous how quickly mum gave in to his insisting.

Eggsy let out all of these worries and thoughts to Galahad, usually over the phone, sometimes over Skype. He had to be careful, and be very quiet, otherwise someone might hear and be annoyed. Galahad was amazingly sympathetic, and patient, and was in every way the best listener Eggsy had ever known. It was a relief. He almost forgot the photos they’d sent each other.

Almost. He still, on bad nights, took out his phone and looked through them. Exhaustion made it impossible to feel more than a vague stirring of interest, but it was… comforting. They’d shared moments together. Even if it had only been a one-off event, a bad day perhaps, with a faint taste of desperation, it had been just them, just Eggsy and Galahad, in a tiny world where the only worry was that they weren’t close enough together.

He still thought Galahad wasn’t close enough.

But that was just the infatuation talking.

Aly visited London for a few days. Eggsy never had time to meet her, but Ryan sent him photos he’d taken with her, at the usual tourist destinations and all of the museums. Her smile was so shy, dark face close to Ryan’s pale one as they stood with their arms around each other’s shoulders. Ryan was insufferably smug that he’d been the one to show her around; when Eggsy finally took an evening off, he’d only just been in time to say goodbye to her at the airport, and several times afterwards he had to suppress the urge to slap his friend for boasting about the time they’d spent together. Ryan was annoying as fuck when smitten. Jamal just rolled his eyes and changed the subject when he could.

Spring passed, summer came. Daisy grew. She cried less, but she never seemed happy. That tore at Eggsy’s heart so badly that a couple times he cried in front of Galahad. Never in front of Dean or mum. No, this was too important, too secret, too painful to tell them. Never mind that Daisy was only a baby, babies had a right—a positive demand—to be happy, and laugh and smile and play. Daisy didn’t like to play. She threw her toys, or ignored them. She never laughed, either.

“Sometimes I think she hates us,” Eggsy whispered hoarsely one night, hugging himself, unable to look up at the screen where Galahad’s image was.

 _“I don’t think babies are capable of hate,”_ Galahad replied gently.

“What if they are?”

_“That’s something for psychologists to wonder at and study. Would you like me to talk you to sleep?”_

Eggsy’s nod was more enthusiastic than his conversation.

One day, when Eggsy managed to play the game longer than half an hour, Rose said suddenly, _“Who wants to go to dinner in a few days? I have a discount I need to use before next month.”_

“Dinner where?” Eggsy asked suspiciously.

_“Nowhere sketchy or too posh. Just a nice Italian place near my house. They let about anyone in there.”_

“Good to know,” Eggsy muttered, thinking about how his only good clothes were either his old uniform or that black-and-yellow jacket he’d paid too much for. But… well… he could use a break. Couldn’t he?

 _“Does that invitation extend to people who need to get out of the house before their sister’s boyfriend drives them insane?”_ Aly asked wearily. Eggsy could almost see the delight that would be on Ryan’s face.

 _“Absolutely,”_ Rose replied.

~~~\0/~~~

“You play Elves’ Ruin?”

“Um, yes,” Roxy answered, surprised, as she finished stretching. When had she ever said she did?

Gazelle lifted one leg and inspected the foot part of her prosthetic, her long midnight hair covering her face. Roxy wished she had the courage to ask to touch her hair. It looked so smooth and soft.

“May I play with you sometime?” Gazelle asked casually. “My party disbanded a few weeks ago.”

Roxy nodded, managed to find her voice, and said, quite normally, “I’m meeting with my party for dinner tomorrow. Would you like to come?”

Gazelle gave one of those tiny smiles that made Roxy’s heart turn over. “That would be wonderful.”

~~~\0/~~~

_“SHE’S GOING TO COME WITH ME.”_

Eggsy winced at Rose’s volume, not quite shouting, but loud enough to hurt. If this is how it felt for everyone else when _he_ shouted, no wonder they hated it.

 _“Who’s coming with you? Where?”_ Galahad inquired calmly.

 _“Gazelle.”_ Rose had reverted to her indoor voice, but she was still breathing very deliberately. _“She asked to play with us, and I asked if she’d like to—oh, that’s her!”_

Eggsy received a notice that GraceAndValor had requested to join his party. Beside their huddle was a Necromancer character, female, with the huge double-handed sword usually reserved for Guardians. Obviously very high-level. Eggsy approved. He also approved the request, and GraceAndValor joined them.

 _“Hello,”_ said a smooth, slightly accented voice. _“I’m Sophia.”_

“Hello,” Eggsy replied cautiously, making his character step forward. “I’m Eggsy.” He introduced each of his teammates, each of whom stepped forward and then back. “I’m leader ‘round here. Nice sword.”

_“Thank you. I won it off my old teammate when we disbanded.”_

Since the only way to “win” something from another character was to defeat them in battle, Eggsy decided not to comment.

There were other pleasantries, then they all headed out to kill some goblins. Sophia/Gazelle was very courteous, letting each of the others choose targets before going after anything herself; but she was absolutely ruthless. She was also silent unless spoken to, and while Eggsy was careful how he spoke to her, she followed each order to the letter.

Aly’s character kept far away from Sophia’s. She seemed even shyer than usual. That might have been Ryan too, as he tried to make conversation and continuously mucked it up. Jamal and Eggsy had to keep saving him before he said anything too embarrassing. Galahad was cautiously friendly, but in that way that Eggsy had decided meant he didn’t like Sophia. Why? She was a good player, she never showed off, and she was a Necromancer. Sure they should at least feel amiable towards each other.

Galahad’s character suddenly disobeyed orders and picked off a drognet while the rest of the party was huddled, discussing plans. That meant the rest of the drognets came charging up the slope to them, and it was chaos for a few heart-stopping seconds. Aly couldn’t keep them all alive, so Eggsy’s character was the first to go. This was part of the contingency plan they’d all worked out; Eggsy’s character was weakest, and he could still direct, even though he couldn’t—

Sophia’s character took a moment from slicing monsters to raise him and put a drain on him, then went right back to fighting. Eggsy actually felt flattered. Maybe having two of everything would be a good idea…

No, it’d just be silly and cumbersome. Maybe a second healer, if Aly was alright with that.

When the drognets had been cleared, Eggsy rounded on Galahad. “What the _fuck_ was that?!” Eggsy hissed, because he could not yell. “You were supposed to stay put!”

 _“My apologies,”_ Galahad said, not at all apologetic.

“Not good enough!”

 _“Since we couldn’t decide on a proper course of action, I believe Galahad’s decision was the best he could have made at that moment,”_ Sophia offered, in her smooth, offhanded way.

Eggsy almost snarled at her—but he remembered Rose, and that they would all be meeting up the next day, so he restrained himself. “It’s a bad habit of his. I’d rather he didn’t fall back into it.”

 _“Hey, wait a minute!”_ Ryan interjected, _“Why is Eggsy bein’ nice to_ her _when he’s always yellin’ at_ us _?”_

 _“Because you deserve to be yelled at, R,”_ Jamal retorted, a little sulkily.

 _“Let’s just get on with the game,”_ Aly suggested, quiet but firm.

 _“Yes, let’s,”_ Rose agreed.

Sophia and Galahad chose not to comment.

The rest of the game went smoothly, until Eggsy heard a wail from the living room. “Baby callin’, see you guys tomorrow,” he said quickly, and disconnected, throwing down his headset to hurry out and care for his little sister.

~~~\0/~~~

Harry was very, very careful, picking out his outfit. Not because he wanted to look good, which he did, but because he had only one that was reasonably blade-proof as well as bulletproof. Just in case.

He did not take the taxi all the way there, and he did not arrive first. He walked a block, slowly, and when he got there he murmured “I’m with the Morton party,” and was shown immediately to a large table that was already full with the whole team.

Ryan and Jamal, he’d seen before. Aly surprised him, being older than he’d thought at about twenty-five, and dressed all in shades of subdued orange that brought out the warmth in her dark brown skin; her hair was very short, and so densely curled that Harry doubted anything could get through it. Rose—Roxanne Morton—was tiny to Harry, with a prim, impish face and sharp brown eyes. Gazelle, seated beside her, was calm, almost cool, and watched everything through half-closed black eyes.

And Eggsy turned in his seat to beam up at Harry and slap the seat of the empty chair, between him and Jamal. “Sit down, you geezer!” Eggsy croaked cheerfully, voice frayed with exhaustion. There were deep circles under his eyes, and lines on his face that Harry did not remember seeing the last time they’d Skyped. “Then we can eat!”

“When was the last time you slept?” Harry asked, the question surprised out of him. He gave a general nod of greeting to everyone before he sat.

“I don’t remember,” Eggsy answered vaguely, “Probably yesterday ‘round noon.”

“No, you were with us from ten to two,” Jamal reminded him.

“Was I?” Eggsy replied, surprised. “Huh.”

“Do I know you?” Roxanne inquired of Harry, narrowing her eyes at him.

“I don’t believe so,” Harry responded. “Perhaps you’ve met an associate of mine? I’m told we all look very much alike.”

“So do you drink wine?” Ryan asked Aly abruptly.

“No,” she answered, her voice soft as her eyes trained on her silverware. “I don’t drink alcohol. It doesn’t taste very good to me.”

“Yeah, I hate most booze,” Ryan, the man who would drink literally anything if it had alcohol in it, replied sympathetically.

Gazelle watched their dynamics thoughtfully. Calculating.

But a waiter soon arrived to take their orders, and Harry noted that Ryan was very careful to ask for a soft drink, catching himself slightly before ordering. Everyone ordered something that said something definite about their personality; Harry ordered spaghetti, the most harmless thing on the menu.

Eggsy didn’t eat anything. He just drank water. When Harry asked in a murmur if he were alright, Eggsy just smiled—but it was obviously faked. “Not that hungry,” he answered.

“Where did he hit you?” Harry growled in a low voice, too low for anyone to hear—except perhaps Jamal, who gave Harry a surprised and calculating look.

“He didn’t!” Eggsy snapped back, quietly. “He hasn’t hit me since Daisy was born. It was—“

“What are you two whispering about?” Ryan demanded suspiciously. Every eye turned to Harry and Eggsy. Eggsy scowled at Ryan; Harry just leveled a cold stare at him until he began to look embarrassed as well as suspicious. “Nothing that concerns you,” Harry replied dryly, in his best I-will-be-obeyed-and-you-will-not-question-me voice. “Eat your steak and be quiet.”

Ryan did so, scowling at his plate. Roxy raised her eyebrows and looked impressed. Aly frowned disapprovingly. Gazelle—almost—smirked. Eggsy and Jamal just stared, appalled and amazed.

Harry wished everyone would stop looking at him like that.

He finished eating before everyone, mostly because he didn’t talk after that. He enjoyed watching the dynamics, though; Jamal and Eggsy sharing dry looks and sometimes smothering chuckles as Ryan made a fool of himself trying to make intelligent conversation with Aly, who humored him and laughed politely and pretended to be interested. Harry could tell she was uncomfortable—but only because she wasn’t used to this kind of attention, bumbling and ridiculous and positive. Roxy, meanwhile, was trying, very subtly, to flirt with Gazelle, who pretended not to notice; but Harry could see the faint curl of her lips, the warmth of her eyes, and the way that, when Roxy murmured some kind of private joke, Gazelle actually smiled a tiny bit and nudged Roxy with her elbow.

Harry politely refused dessert. He also politely refused to stay any longer; he left enough cash to cover his own meal and tip, said goodbye, and left, trying to ignore the dismayed look Eggsy gave him. His presence was unneeded. He had reports to write up.

~~~\0/~~~

Eggsy tried not to take it personal. He tried not to blame any of the others, either. Galahad just didn’t want to be there, with all these young people. They probably bored him, or made him uncomfortable. That still hurt.

When dessert was finished, Ryan blurted to Aly, “Wanna go to karaoke, like last time?”

Everyone’s attention sharpened, and, slowly, Rose—Roxy—began to smile, as Jamal practically lit up. Sophia’s caramel face held a tiny smile of her own.

Aly glanced at all of them. Ryan noticed, and scowled. But then Aly said, quietly, “Sure. I’m not standing up in front of people again, though.”

“I know a very nice place with private rooms,” Roxy promised, her smile turning impish as Ryan glared. “We can all go. Gazelle? Jay, Eggsy?”

“I haven’t done karaoke since I was in Tokyo two years ago,” Gazelle murmured. “I’d love to.”

“I’ve never tried karaoke,” Jamal admitted. “I wanna, though.”

“I gotta get home,” Eggsy informed them all heavily. “I promised mum I’d come back soon as possible.”

“Surly she can manage without for one night?” Roxy asked delicately.

Eggsy made himself think about it. Then, in a fit of defiance, he blurted, “Yeah, alright. Let’s do this.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Special Offer** : First to comment gets all rights to rewrite/continue this story however they want.


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